Moonless in Minas Tirith
by Nuinzilien
Summary: A moonless night in Minas Tirith, a city that never sleeps. PG13 at most for adult themes


Title: Moonless in Minas Tirith

Author Name: Nuinzilien (a.k.a Nui)

Contact Email: cats. Name: Zhie

Main Characters: Aragorn, Galadriel, Celeborn, others

Rating: PG-13

Genre(s): Humor (some would call it Crack)

Word Count: 1840 - initially longer, but after edit, some parts were taken out for quality control.

Summary: A moonless night in Minas Tirith, the city that never sleeps…

Original Request: Aragorn/Galadriel; The night before his wedding to Arwen, Galadriel sits Aragorn down to give him some advice and tips on what he should do to make her granddaughter happy in bed. Lots of sensual play and minor kinky stuff ok, but Please DO NOT include intercourse between Galadriel and Aragorn. And NO SLASH AT ALL.

Aragorn watched the streets. No late night travelers. He watched the sky. No moon. How appropriate. A dark night for illicit deeds. He looked down at himself. No fine clothes, weapons, definitely no crown, not even a royal signet ring. Good. It certainly wouldn't do for the newly crowned King of the Reunited Kingdom of the Dunedain to be caught slinking through his own capitol city to an assignation the night before he is to be wed to his beloved Queen. No, it wouldn't do at all…so why was he doing it?

Simple. Aragorn Elessar, lover of many, Dunedain Chieftain, warrior, healer, king…was terrified of his intended. She was…delicate. Ethereal…elf.

He scurried across the street and knocked softly. When the door opened, he bowed politely. "I am here to see your Lady."

Nimble fingers comfortable wielding both quill and sword weaved thin white ribbons through perfect golden waves. One hand – so naughty! – strayed a bit, stroking down a slender neck, to… "Ow."

Celeborn drew his hand back, rubbing his knuckles. "That was not a very nice thing to do to someone who was only trying to show his Lady a bit of affection. When I got that trinket for you, I had no idea I was giving you a deadly weapon."

Galadriel smirked and folded the pretty white silk fan. "Yes, and the demonstrations on how to deliver killing blows with it were simply…pleasant diversions?"

Celeborn smiled sheepishly, having been caught out. "Well, they WERE pleasantly diverting, were they not? I certainly couldn't outright give you a blade. I made a promise to my liege before we were wed."

She sniffed delicately. "One would think you didn't trust me to be capable of defending myself."

Celeborn chuckled and pulled his wife close. "On the contrary. I trust you implicitly. It is everyone else with whom I find fault." Moving behind her, he fastened a tiny pearl button…and then unfastened it. "You hair is in the way…as always," he purred softly.

Galadriel smiled. "Then allow me to move it for you." She gathered all of her hair and pulled it over one shoulder.

Celeborn smiled and fiddled with her buttons, his smirking lips grazing down the long, bare line of her neck. He nibbled, chuckling as he left gooseflesh in his wake. One hand snuck over her shoulder and down into the bodice of her…

"My Lady? The king is here to see you."

Biting off a curse, Celeborn withdrew his hand and fastened the last button. He kissed his Lady sweetly. "I will be waiting."

She nodded and waved him off.

Celeborn sighed and descended the steps into the receiving room.

Aragorn's greeting died on his lips under the intense scrutiny of Lothlorien's lord. He bowed slightly. "My lord Celeborn."

Celeborn grunted. "I only agree to this out of love for my granddaughter. Behave yourself, King of Gondor." He shut the door behind him quietly.

Aragorn cleared his throat, beginning to think he'd have been better off just apologizing to Arwen for his Mannish roughness and asking for her patience. He took a deep breath and ascended the steps, wondering what had possessed him to take Gimli's advice…or what had possessed him to go to said dwarf for advice in the first place. Not like HE had ever been in this kind of situation, the man-whore…er…well…dwarf-whore. Wait…did dwarves even have whores? Did they even have females to BE whores? He'd heard rumors, but could never identify one himself, and he'd seen hundreds of dwarves in his lifetime…

Shaking his head, he tapped on the door lightly and waited for Galadriel's bidding before he stepped inside. "My Lady."

Celeborn sat in the back corner of the pub, a dark, perfect place for sulking that even his natural radiance could not brighten. Yes, the perfect place to indulge in an old fashioned Elf Lord sulk.

Which ancient, dignified beings such as himself did not indulge in. Most certainly not. Sulking was such a base activity, suitable only to Men and elflings. Mostly Men. Wretched, petulant creatures.

Caught up in his dignified brooding, Celeborn failed to notice the cloaked form sliding into the chair beside him, placing a bottle of whiskey between them.

Celeborn blinked. "Gimli."

Said Dwarf pulled his cloak off. "Fair evening, Lord Celeborn."

Celeborn grunted. The damned Dwarf was the instigator of this entire debacle. Nosy bastard.

Gimli grinned broadly. "Ye look like ye could use a bit o' southern comfort…"

Celeborn sipped his ale.

Gimli cackled and slapped his knee. "Two hundred pieces says ye'll be starin' at the underside of the table before I even feel tingly."

Celeborn put his ale down, slowly turning to give the Dwarf an incredulous look. "You did not learn your lesson the first time?"

Gimli smirked. "Didna count. His Nana played her king false."

Celeborn blinked in shock. "I beg your pardon?"

"Aye, ye don' think a true Elf could fight like tha', do ye?"

Celeborn's eyes narrowed. Was the little shit trying to goad him?

Gimli smirked.

Celeborn ached to knock his teeth into his larynx. Instead, he examined the bottle, only distantly aware of the pub's sudden silence.

He lifted the bottle to his lips, paused for dramatic effect, then drank.

And drank.

And drank.

He slammed the now empty bottle on the table.

Gimli's grin was pure evil. "Barman!" He downed his own bottle, slamming it on the table.

"Aye?"

"The Great Lord Celeborn thinks he can drink a Dwarf under the table!"

Amidst many cheers, jeers and catcalls, the barman opened his stock and started the tab.

Aragorn pulled his cloak from his shoulders and draped it over the chair. He perched on the settee, facing his intimidating grandmother-to-be. "My Lady…"

"Stop." She sighed. "If we are to make it through this, we cannot be King Elessar and Lady Galadriel. In Lothlorien, we will be Estel and Lady Galadriel. Tomorrow, you can be King Elessar and I will be Galadriel, Arwen's grandmother and eldest female of her house." She reached out and stroked his cheek sympathetically. "Tonight, we are simply Aragorn and Galadriel. A male and a female in need of comfort."

Aragorn blinked at her and swallowed.

Galadriel smiled. "Don't tell me you've never been with a female before…"

He shook his head. "It would be a lie. But those females…were different. They were not the same sort of female as yourself and my betrothed."

Her brow arched. "Oh?"

He cleared his throat. "Nay, they most certainly were not."

Galadriel's normally crystal bright eyes glittered wickedly. "So what kind of women were they?"

Aragorn blanched. "Erm…well…"

She burst into peals of laughter. "Oh, you are FUN to play with!"

Aragorn huffed, then lunged in and kissed her.

Galadriel blinked in surprise, effectively silenced.

"My stocks are dry, you fish!" The irate barman called out as Celeborn and Gimli slammed their most recently emptied bottles on the table, roaring for more.

Growls of discontent rolled around the room as the other patrons – at one time cheering the duelers on – now realized that their own planned liaisons with the Green Fairy had been thoroughly cancelled.

Fortunately (or unfortunately for the intended victim), one diligent soul mentioned a competitor's pub down the way. Growls turned back into cheers as the dry pub cleared out, the challengers supported in the air by wandering (and occasionally groping) hands and liquor.

Lots of liquor.

Galadriel sighed and winced. He had started out so well… She reached down and tapped his shoulder.

Aragorn blinked and looked up, smiling. "Yes?"

Galadriel smiled sweetly. "Truly, Aragorn, I do not mean to break your concentration, you seem to have found a good pace. However, my husband has a fondness for these, and I would like to have use of them again in the future, so please try not to bite them off…"

Minutes later, she was growling in frustrated boredom. "Oh, come now! I said to ease up a bit, not bore me completely! We are elves, not porcelain marionettes!"

One pub after the other closed down for the night, having been drunk completely dry by an Elf, a Dwarf, and a rowdy group of spectators. The rowdy group of spectators grew less rowdy and less numerous as the witching hour drew near and most sought the warm comfort of their homes.

Celeborn blinked and steadied himself against Gimli…which proved to be a bad idea. They both toppled to the ground, giggling like idiots. He turned to Gimli. "So, giggle…who landed first?"

Aragorn wanted to die. Either that, or cry…but dying was much more preferable. Why add tears to his current humiliation?

Galadriel's hand rested on his shoulder gently. "I do not suppose it would help to say that EVERY male encounters this at some point?"

Aragorn lifted his head from his hands and gave her a look.

She sighed. "I thought not. But still. It happens."

"Has it happened to Lord Celeborn?"

Silence.

"Right." Aragorn's head returned to his hands.

Galadriel's mind raced, searching for some way to save the night. She stood and walked over to her traveling bag. A few moments of frantic rustling and cursing later, she let out a soft cry of triumph and turned around, carrying a deck of playing cards and a hopeful expression. "Do you like to fish?"

Aragorn blinked. "Pardon?"

She beamed. "Go fish! I have loved this game since my own elfling-hood. My Lord Celeborn insists it is a puerile game and refuses to play it, unless I win a bet. Even then he puts up such a fuss that I send him off to do something less rewarding. So, Aragorn, my future grandson…shall we fish?"

Arwen smiled sweetly as she stepped up beside her groom, waiting for Elrond to officiate her wedding to her King. "How did you sleep last evening, my love?"

Aragorn went to reply, then caught Galadriel in the corner of his eye. He blinked as she made an odd gesture, then chuckled and leaned close to Arwen's ear. "Wonderfully."

Celeborn blinked as he watched Galadriel cast and reel. "You…you…what did you do last night?"

Galadriel smirked. "We fished, my husband. All night. He is quite good, you know…very satisfying."

Celeborn grunted, struggling to forget his own waking as thoroughly as he had forgotten most of his late night. Couldn't he just have a nice blank from the time he sprawled with Gimli in the street to the moment he stumbled back into the flat he was sharing with Galadriel?

Of course not.

Dammit.

Gimli blinked and leaned close to his sister. "Ye look entirely too pleased wi' yerself, wee Nessie. What were ye up to last eve?"

Dressed in fine silks purchased just this morning, Nessa the Dwarf just smiled, the hand hidden within her clothing patting a silver laden coin pouch. "No' much, brother. No' much."

She smirked as a tall, silver elf standing beside the Golden Witch tried hard not to notice her.

End


End file.
